


And So The Dragons Fell From Grace

by Sincognito



Category: (both versions of it), Possible Horrortale?, Swapfell - Fandom, Underfell - Fandom, Undertale, We'll see - Fandom, underswap
Genre: Captivity, Dragonised characters, Dragons, Dubious Consent, Fell Dragons, Forced Captivity, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Slight Bad Brother AU, Speciesism, Unethical Experimentation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincognito/pseuds/Sincognito
Summary: For even they have their monsters.When the 'fell verse' monsters broke from their barriers and stepped out onto the surface they brought with them only war and death. They fought against human-kind and were victorious, enslaving all those who could not escape their reach. They then fought against the dragons that were hidden away from the world, killing them and stealing their souls, transforming the monsters into powerful draconic beings.When the other monsters were freed they were greeted by a world ruled by cruel dragons that were swift to hunt them down and enslave them as their playthings. However, some monsters escaped from the dragons, joining with the humans that remained and now prepare to take back the surface. But does kindness still lurk in the hearts of dragons? Or have they all fallen down?





	1. Chapter 1

The cool mountain air was a stark contrast to the hot wind that usually beat down upon the valley that Rus called home. The warmth of summer had begun to slowly fade when he had left his homeland, travelling for untold hours each day to put as much distance between himself and the border of the plainlands far behind him. He had crossed the mountains that lined the territory, continuing until they were a mere blur on the horizon.

He had started up the next mountain to cross his path without pause, and he had been seriously considering stopping and resting for a few days. Rus had never been a strong monster, and weeks of constant walking had worn him down to the very brink of exhaustion. Yet, with adrenaline racing through his body and the pounding of his soul clear in his head, he managed to run.

He gasped at the air, ignoring the burning of his chest and the numbness of his legs as he pushed on, ducking between the trees and stumbling through the dew-covered grass. It was early morning and the sun had only just risen, but it was evidently enough light for the large beast to have been awake and already patrolling the mountainside for potential prey.

The rhythmic beating of wings grew louder and louder, and Rus could only just hear it over the sound of his soul. He dove through the bushes, making a break across a large clearing, sprinting as fast as his body would allow him towards the trees on the other side.

He almost made it.

Something slammed into his back, easily knocking him to the ground and pinning him with its great weight. Despite being badly winded he refused to admit defeat and continued to thrash, squirming underneath his foe until even the adrenaline had worn off, no longer able to provide any further energy. He fell limp, his whole body heaving with each deep breath and his vision clouded by black spots.

A claw dug into one of Rus’ vertebra, causing him to hiss in pain before gritting his teeth to stifle any other sounds. “What is such a pretty pet doing on my mountain?” chuckled the deep voice, a soft hum accompanying his tone, “You’re very far from home, aren’t you?” Warmth trickled down upon Rus’ body as the beast spoke, obviously trying to make the question sound as though it had no underlying statement. He knew enough about dragons to know that the cursed creature was smiling at his pitiful state. He knew what thoughts his words betrayed. The dragon thought he had just found a nice little addition to his horde.

The weight lifted from Rus’ back and he was forcedly rolled over onto his back with a rather rough shove, coming face to face with his captor. He had never seen an undead dragon quite so large before, his large slitted eyes a deep, glowing crimson, and his skull severely marred by chips and scars. Most dragons wore an armour-like hide of richly coloured scales, but this creature was nothing but bleached bones and red magic.

While the dragon might have been in his prime, his face was marked with a deep crack from his forehead to just above where his teeth sat in his snout, running directly through one of his eye sockets. The visage was terribly familiar and left a nauseous feeling in the pit of Rus’ non-existent stomach. He tensed as a large claw drew close to his neck, abruptly looping around the thick steel collar clamped around his neck and wrenching him forward. He choked weakly, grasping at the dragon’s paw to try and lessen the strain.

“Where is your master, monster?” the dragon asked, leaning down to scent him briefly. While his ‘master’ might not have spent much time near him, the way the beast’s eyes narrowed and a displeased rumble broke from his chest signalled that a tiny part of his owner’s smell remained present, even after their long time apart. “So, you’re the pet that filth was searching for,” he snarled, releasing Rus’ collar, “The runt should learn to take better care of his possessions.”

Immediately Rus turned to run, consequences be damned. However, the moment he swivelled around on his foot, a large hand grasped around his middle, pulling him back so he pressed firmly against a hard, bony chest. “Get off me!” Rus shouted, finally managing to find his voice as he struggled against the hand in vain.

The dragon either didn’t hear him or didn’t care to listen to his words, for he merely gripped him tighter, taking a moment to survey his surroundings before giving a powerful beat of his wings. It took three massive flaps to gather enough momentum before the dragon could lift his huge body from the ground, pushing off from the grass with his large hind legs as he easily leapt into the air with an excited trill.

“No, no, nononono!” Rus yelped, holding onto the dragon’s arm for dear life. He had never flown before, and although they stayed relatively low to the ground, he couldn’t fend off the terror that gripped at his soul. The dragon was going to kill him, or worse; return him to his home. He didn’t realise when his eyes had closed, but he found he couldn’t open them, desperately gasping for breath. He could feel the way they rose and fell, the sound of the dragon’s wings beating steadily barely audible over the sound of the wind rushing past them.

He felt as the dragon dipped them forward, feeling as they dropped closer and closer to the ground, and sobbed loudly. He was not enjoying flying. Not in the slightest. “Please, please, put me down, please put me down!” His fingers were digging into the dragon’s bones as he tried to hold on tighter, magic threatening to leak out from the corners of his closed sockets.

He was so drawn into his panic that he didn’t notice the lack of wind nor the missing sound of beating wings, it was only when he felt another arm gently wrap around his tiny figure and warm breath trickling down his back that he finally opened his eyes, feeling the growing heat of his face as he realised they had already landed.

He braved a glance up at the giant beast, staring into the red slits of magic that were looking back down at him with furrowed brows. The dragon tilted his head with a soft hum, before seeming to suddenly snap out of his trance, beginning to slowly walk across the large ledge they had landed upon. He held Rus with one of his front paws while using the other to assist with walking as they headed towards a large cave entrance.

Rus attempted to struggle once more, trying to loosen the dragon’s claws enough for him to free himself. Unfortunately, the grip was far too tight for him to escape, and it only wrapped tighter around his spine the harder he fought against it. “Get off me!” he hissed weakly, kicking out his feet angrily.

His resistance was only short-lived, his legs quickly reminding him of just how little energy he had to spare. He wrapped his arms once more against the dragon’s long leg, using it to take some of the strain off his aching back. The cave was only shallow, light still easily penetrating the darkness and lighting up the large structure within.

There were large pillars scattered throughout the cave, and from the ceiling hung great plants that had broken through the limestone, allowing more light to fill the cool cavern. Rus watched as water from above ran down from the stalagmites, before dropping down into shallow pools of water or onto small, newly formed stalactites. While it might have seemed damp and cold, the cave was no mere simple hole of rock, it was a dragon’s lair and that meant a certain level of luxury was to be expected.

Further into the cave beyond a small river of water that flowed down beside the step-like form of the rocks lay a brightly lit area that shone with the light of the flaming torches that sat upon the surrounding walls. Each of the columns that stood before the den were each carved into intricate artworks of dragons and fierce warriors. One dragon, however, set apart from the others, in the very middle of the cave. It stood tall, every detail of its image carved with painstaking accuracy, and its eyes almost seemed to glow a bright red from the rubies that sat in place of the dragon’s eyes.

Before the draconic statue was a large, smooth plate of stone coupled with several worn pillows. Evidently, the statue was some sort of shrine dedicated to the dragon that had once ruled over the mountain range and its surrounding plains. However, the candles that sat below the dragon’s feet sat long since extinguished, and the pillows were grey with dust.

The main section of the den was lined with numerous exotic rugs of vibrant colours and unusual textures, and there were more than a few ancient furnishings stacked throughout. However, the most prominent feature of the cave was unmistakably the enormous pile of gold and silver. Goblets and necklaces and countless jewels lay strewn across the floor every which way and there were more golden coins than Rus had seen in his entire life.

He was so distracted by the ginormous pile of valuables that he let out a surprised yelp when he was abruptly dropped onto the carpet below. He landed heavily on his tailbone with a hiss of pain, reaching back a hand to gently massage the afflicted area.

There was no point trying to escape. Rus was deep within the dragon’s lair and he had little to no chance of being able to escape it without harm. He watched silently as the dragon clambered upon the giant pile of riches, turning around to face Rus’ direction before sinking down into the gold as though it was a pool of water. He saw the dragon give a shiver, nosing its face into it with a pleased hum.

After a contented moment, the dragon opened its eyes once more, watching Rus from its radiant bed. “Come closer pet,” he purred softly, eyes softening slightly and making the dragon almost seem peaceful. He waited until Rus had inched closer before speaking again, face still slightly obscured by the precious metal, “By what name does your master call you, monster?” he asked.

One of Rus’ arm reached up to grasp his elbow, his eyes drifting off towards the floor, “Rus,” he answered simply. There was a loud snort from the dragon, and Rus realised he had been forgetting himself, clearing his throat before quickly correcting his statement, “It’s Rus, mighty dragon.”

The dragon made a satisfied sound that rumbled all through its bones upon hearing Rus’ words. With its head now raised proudly the dragon spoke again, “I am the great and terrible Edge!” he boomed, voice still thick with the previous vibrations that had left his throat, “And I am your new master.” The dragon was smirking, his smugness evident in the way his posture straightened and his head turned to one side slightly.

“My new master?” Rus echoed, frowning slightly, “I’ve already got a master, and I’m pretty sure he won’t be to--” He was cut off by a loud snort from the dragon.

“I could care less about what that pathetic excuse for a dragon thinks,” he hissed, swishing his tail in mild agitation, “I believe the phrase you monsters like to use is ‘finder’s keepers’. That is exactly how the world works, it’s not my problem the brat can’t keep a firm grasp on his own pet.”

Rus fell quiet, pondering for a moment his new situation. He had fought tooth and claw to escape from his previous owner, only to end up back in the service of another. He doubted Edge was any different to the other ugly hearted beasts he had encountered since reaching the surface, he seemed just as egotistical and demanding. “Of course, your eminence.” His hands shook slightly by his sides from where he was curling his hands so tightly into fists.

Weeks of running, weeks of hoping that against all odds he might just make it, only to be crushed the moment the dragon had spotted him from his perch high up in the sky. It was cruel, painfully so, but there was nothing Rus could do as he stood silently, glaring at the soft rug below his feet.

He didn’t notice the way the dragon’s mask dropped as he regarded him with soft eyes and a heart full of hidden worry.


	2. Chapter 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus is mindlessly beginning to settle in with his new routine, slowly beginning to forget any plans of escape he may have had. However, eventually, his past will catch up to him.

The days that followed seemed to progress at an agonisingly slow pace. The dragon, Edge, would leave at dawn before Rus woke to begin his patrol of his territory, scouting out the nearby mountain ranges for any trace of intruders, before returning just before midday. More often than not the skeletal reptile would return with a fresh catch – usually wild elk or the occasional sheep or cow – that he would quickly devour, leaving not a scrap for Rus. The skeleton knew better than to disturb a dragon while feeding.

After his meal, Edge would return to his pile of gold, curling up in it with a pleasant hum as his body converted the newly eaten flesh into usable magic to fuel his soul. Rus had quickly learnt that the dragon was not one for simply lazing about, and while he lay still to digest, he was constantly filling the air with conversation, albeit largely one sided. His claws would tap at the floor with poorly veiled restlessness as he eagerly awaited his chance to move around again. And move he could.

One afternoon Rus had walked to the opening of the dragon’s lair and had been rewarded with the stunning sight of Edge as he effortlessly spiralled up beyond the clouds, before abruptly shifting direction and allowing his massive body to plummet down towards the ground, halting his dissent just in time for him to gracefully switch to a swift glide, swooping down low over the trees. It was in that moment that Rus felt his hope of escape begin to slip further away.

It was on a particularly warm evening that Rus had finally decided to explore the cave in greater detail. With most of the vast cavern lit only by the small torch he clutched firmly in his fragile hands, he cautiously began to examine all of the intricate carvings of mighty dragons on the walls and pillars that seemed to hold up the entire ceiling above them. As he slowly moved, he came to realise that the dragon depicted in all of the art was in fact the same one.

While the drawings offered only little information about it, Rus found his mind wandering – what colour had its beautiful scales been? Did they flicker in the light like the gems it horded? – if one thing was for certain, it was that whoever the dragon had been, it was greatly adored by the humans of the valley. There were images of the dragon keeping their land safe from invaders and offering its service to all who needed it, acting as a benevolent protector and friend. 

The clacking of bone against stone drew Rus’ attention and he glanced away from the carved walls to watch as Edge approached, his head low as if trying not to frighten off the monster. Not that he had anywhere to run anyway.

“What are you doing?” the dragon rumbled, his eyes narrowing slightly, “I thought you were going to retire for the evening.” Originally Rus had stated that he would go to bed early but had perhaps been too absorbed by his imagination, thinking up fanciful scenes of humans and monsters living at peace with dragons. It was a foolish, naïve idea, but weren’t all stories about love and happy endings fabricated by the mind of a hopeful child?

“I was just looking at the carvings,” he explained, motioning to the pillar beside him with the torch, “but I can head off to bed if you would prefer, master.”

The dragon hummed to itself for a moment, its eyes scanning over the art as a distant look began to take over his face, “They loved their dragon,” Edge finally breathed, his eyes seeming to lose their normal focus, “They built him shrines and would provide him an offering at the beginning of every spring in thanks.”

“How do you know?” He knew it was improper for him to question a dragon without invitation, but Edge either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t mind the inquiry.

“I remember it.” He said simply with a soft puff of smoke, turning away to signal the end of their conversation. The answer had done nothing but further his confusion and for a moment Rus simply stood staring dumbly, even after the dragon had returned to its pile of treasure to prepare for his inevitable slumber.

Realising he was making an even larger fool of himself the longer he continued to watch, he quickly made his way towards his own sleeping quarters. He had a small bed, a slightly worn pillow and a small pile of plush blankets to pick from. It was a rather humble set-up, but it was far superior than sleeping on the floor. While it wasn’t exactly a closed off room, he still received a pleasant amount of privacy from the way his sleeping area was dug deep into the side of one of the cave’s walls.

Taking a moment to release some of the tension in his back with a few cracks, Rus swiftly moved to removing his hoodie, noting with a slight frown that it was due to be washed. He was just about to begin taking off his shorts and was more than a little startled when a large head appeared at the entrance to his room causing him to jerk slightly.

Upon noticing what Rus was doing Edge made a sound unbefitting of his fearsome appearance, immediately aborting whatever he had planned and retreating back around the corner once more. The sound of valuables clinking was enough of a signal that the dragon had gone back to his horde, obviously deciding against speaking to Rus again.

It hadn’t really registered with Rus that the dragon wasn’t exactly a real dragon but a monster in possession of a dragon’s soul until that point. He could feel his skull warming slightly as he considered Edge’s reaction as the reaction of another person, another skeleton just like him. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it but decided that standing half naked in his room wasn’t going to help him decipher his emotions.

The following morning Edge was acting completely normal – leaving early on patrol, taking some time to track down a meal and then sleeping it off – his mind no longer lingered on the concerns he had held the evening just passed and he was quick to return to routine. While Rus was by no means the cleanest monster out there, he had quickly learnt that if his cleaning skills were not up to par he would be rather harshly reprimanded; the scars that lined his back were a testament to that. He had yet to see Edge’s true ire and if he could he would try his utmost to keep it that way.

His morning was spent sweeping out all of the leaves and dust that had blown into the dragon’s cave during the night – a surprising amount of work due to how enormous the cave was – and he was only just finishing up when Edge had returned from his morning meal. Rus shivered slightly as he watched the fat drops of crimson drip from the dragon’s maw, a tongue snaking its way from his mouth to lick away the final remainder of whatever it was he had hunted down.

With a soft sigh Edge stretched out his joints like some sort of overgrown cat, his chest vibrating slightly as he prepared to sleep off his breakfast as normal. His eyes scanned the cave, seeming to roll over each and every one of the dragon’s possessions in turn, including Rus himself. Once satisfied that nothing was out of place, he happily padded over to his usual napping place.

Before Edge could completely settle in to sleep Rus finally managed to find his voice, “I-I need to clean some of my clothes down by the stream,” he began, pausing slightly when the dragon narrowed his eyes on him suspiciously, “With your permission, of course, master.”

Edge tilted his head to the side briefly in what seemed to be contemplation before growling slightly, “Fine. But don’t even consider running away,” he hissed, his tail thrashing in obvious agitation, knocking a large antique wardrobe over. Dragons hated letting their possessions out of their sight, and for Rus to leave Edge’s den while he slept? It was no wonder the reptile was anxious.

Rus gave a slightly awkward bow, “I wouldn’t dream of it, your eternal eminence.” The flattery seemed to at least calm the dragon, even if only slightly, as he merely waved for the smaller skeleton to leave in feigned disinterest. Unfortunately, the regal effect was ruined by the way he seemed to preen at the compliment.

He was able to hold in a snicker until he was finally outside the cave, it was rather entertaining to watch how easy dragons were to please. They were by no means dull, simple creatures, but it was almost ridiculously easy to play into their good graces with a few sweet words and admiring looks from afar. Perhaps Edge just wanted someone to tell him he looked handsome every morning. Thinking back on it, he wouldn’t exactly put it past the dragon to do such a thing.

The woodland air was clean and crisp, the scent of fresh pine heavy in the air. The smell filled Rus’ nose with a familiarity that had his heart aching and his mind wandering to a simpler, kinder time when everyone was safe. The sun above shone strong, and yet, it almost seemed that underground the world had been brighter.

Rus could see the nearby village in the distance at the base of the mountain. A kindly old lady had allowed him to stay in her stable one evening, even going as far as to bring him breakfast when he woke and a mug of sweet tea to wash it all down before he left to continue his journey. He wondered if he would ever be able to repay her kindness.

It was no secret that humans hated monsters, they always had and likely always would if those deemed ‘fell’ monsters had their way. Most humans would have turned Rus away or simply slammed the door in his face if he’d asked for somewhere to spend the night. When he wasn’t out trekking through the wilderness he usually found himself huddled up on a cold street corner, hoping that no one would pay him any mind or pass him off as just a poor beggar.

It was quiet as Rus began to walk down the mountainside toward where he had been told there was a small stream he could use to wash his clothes and himself. He had been completely lost in his thoughts, but he slowly began to realise just how quiet the woods were. There were no sounds drifting up from the usually busy village below and not a bird to be seen in any of the trees.

At the eeriness of the forest he slowed his movements, contemplating returning to the cave and cleaning later on. There were very few things that could scare away all the animals of a forest, and Rus wasn’t eager to encounter any of them.

There was a loud snap as a nearby branch was torn from a tree and Rus found himself running before he had even registered where the sound had come from. Much to his dismay, running back uphill was a far more tedious task than it had been to leisurely stroll down and he found that no matter how quickly he tried to sprint away from whatever dangerous creatures lurked in the woods he made no significant ground.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when something snatched Rus’ legs out from underneath him, causing him to fall face first into the hard ground. He gave a weak groan, his hand seeking out the front of his skull to clutch his face as it seemed to pulse with pain. He felt something warm and wet trickling onto his phalanges and pulled his hand away from his face to see it stained red with marrow. It seemed that the rocky ground was a little sturdier than his face.

A laugh sounded from behind him and Rus felt his blood run cold, “You seriously thought you could get away from us?” It chortled in amusement, a clawed paw easily grasping his legs to prevent any attempt at escape. Even if he had wanted to, Rus was unable to even consider trying to get away, not with the way his head seemed to be spinning, red liquid dripping down into his sockets from his forehead and only serving to disorientate him further.

He fell limp against the ground, his mind growing fuzzy and drowning out whatever it was his attacker was saying. He could hear roaring and there suddenly seemed to be a lot of fire everywhere, but Rus didn’t mind, even if it was a little warm. Why was Edge looking at him? When did he get there? It likely didn’t matter, Rus was tired, his sockets growing heavy. Edge seemed to be saying something but Rus ignored him, he’d ask him what he was trying to say when he woke up.


End file.
